


Hemlock

by lemonoclefox



Series: Sway [3]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Flashbacks, Gen, Light Angst, Magic, Short but sweet?, Witchcraft, Witches, except not sweet?, kind of dark I guess, modern witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-27 11:46:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17766200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemonoclefox/pseuds/lemonoclefox
Summary: Magnus knows exactly what is expected of him.





	Hemlock

**Author's Note:**

> Another little oneshot for my Sway-verse! This one isn't fluffy. Like, not even a little bit. Rather, it's a glimpse into Magnus's youth, back in the day, at age sixteen. So no malec, no softness, just... this. Enjoy!

"You need to know this by tomorrow."

Magnus looks down at his books, his pages, filled with details and knowledge that any young initiate must know before officially joining the coven. Birthright or no.

"I know," he says. "I'm sorry."

Lilith hums, and he looks back up; her expression is briefly one of someone who just smelled something foul.

"Don't apologize," she says. "A prince doesn't apologize."

Magnus holds her gaze, makes sure to not look away, this time. He bites back the impulse to apologize for apologizing, knowing that it wouldn't do any good.

"I know," he says again, instead. Lilith considers him for a moment, before straightening a little, as though satisfied and willing to let him off the hook, for now.

The room they're in is an unfamiliar one, just as always. They never stay in one place too long, the whole coven moving on whenever it suits them, whenever they tire of what their current location has to offer. This house is just one of many villas and chateaus and penthouses they own around the world.

"Do you have everything else prepared?" she asks, stepping away from the small, paper-strewn table at which Magnus sits, and elegantly making her way over to the large fireplace. Elegantly, always so elegantly. Everything she does is elegant. Elegant and fierce. An apex predator.

"Not yet," Magnus says, shifting a little in his seat. Lilith looks over her shoulder, her gaze a physically cold, prickling sensation in Magnus's chest. He elaborates. "I don't have the dust yet. Or the bones."

Lilith's chin lifts slightly.

"And why is that?" she asks.

Magnus is sure she knows the answer, but allows her to humiliate him by asking.

"Because I don't want to," he replies, reluctantly, but honestly. Lilith's perfectly sculpted eyebrows rise by a fraction. She could just as well be towering over Magnus with a grip around his throat. "I don't like it."

"That's unfortunate." Her voice is soft, kind, eyes now directed at the crackling fire in front of her. "What you want doesn't really matter, in this instance."

Magnus is all too aware of that. Painfully aware. It is one single, fundamental truth he learned at a very young age and has lived with, ever since.

"I'll do it tonight," he says, keeping his voice steady, even though just the thought of living up to this promise makes his stomach turn. "I'll find a good one."

"I should hope so." Lilith trails her manicured fingertips along the edge of the fireplace, spots where anyone else would flinch from the searing burn against their skin. Her skin remains clean and unblemished. "Your father won't accept anything less."

A sudden chill, ice water running down Magnus's back, making his jaw clench and fingers tighten into anxious fists.

"I know," he says.

"And neither will your mother."

The cold is replaced with a white-hot whip of anger that makes Magnus speak before he can stop himself.

"You're not my mother," he says tightly, regretting it the moment the words are out.

Lilith turns her head, expression calm and unbothered.

"Not by blood," she admits, slowly making her way back over to him. The hammering in Magnus's chest is even louder than her heels tapping against the hardwood floor, her long silk dress sweeping around her ankles. Her proximity is daunting as she stops in front of him, the small table separating the two of them. "But as High Priestess, I am." Magnus looks down, only to have Lilith place a dainty finger underneath his chin, forcing his gaze back up with zero effort. Her eyes are dark chips of ice. "I am the mother of this coven. And you will treat me accordingly."

Magnus does his best to keep his breathing even. Lilith has never been one for physical punishment, but there's still something so unpredictable about her, something emotional and passionate, and it makes her terrifying. Only more so when her expression suddenly softens, and she lets out a sigh.

"I know we've never quite seen eye to eye," she says, her voice now full of gentle concern. She strokes Magnus's cheek with the back of her hand, so tenderly. "Truthfully, if I didn't fear starting a war with your father, I would have gotten rid of you years ago. Discarded you. Just like the woman who birthed you did, when she decided to leave us."

Of all the ways Magnus has heard his mother's suicide phrased over the years, this may be one of the worst.

"But I take my vows very seriously," Lilith continues. "And you are Asmodeus's favorite. He and I may share leadership, but compromise is still a vital part of any relationship."

She sounds almost patronizing now, as though speaking to a child. Magnus knows exactly what kind of relationship she and his father have―it's not one of love, or affection, or even sex. It's a partnership. A reluctant sharing of power over one of the oldest and most feared covens the world has ever seen. It's common knowledge that Lilith made sure the previous High Priestess was killed so that she could take her place, though no one is sure how. It doesn't matter, anyway; that is how things are done.

Lilith watches him for a few more moments, Magnus unflinchingly holding her gaze, before removing her hand from his face and leaving cold emptiness behind. Magnus feels drained, and he can't explain why.

"Now, this won't do," Lilith says smoothly, glancing down at his scattered reading spread out on the table. He has been sitting here for hours, making sure he has everything under control, knows everything he needs to know for the ritual. The one planned just for him. "Studiousness is all well and good, but I strongly advise you to have everything else ready by tomorrow morning. Don't dilly-dally. Those bones will be harder to come by during the day."

Magnus swallows hard, only once Lilith has turned away and started walking towards the door, out of sight. He hesitates, then turns in his seat, just slightly.

"Where can I find some?" he asks, his voice weaker than he would like. He knows the obvious answer, but he asks anyway, hopes there's some other way.

"Oh, Rome is a big city," Lilith says, pausing to turn and look at him. "Unwanted people are killed every day."

Magnus nods.

"And if I can't find anyone?" he says after a moment, his mouth dry. He's not sure what kind of answer he expects. That if he can't acquire four finger bones of a recently murdered individual, as well as dust from the location of their death, this will be provided for him? That's not how it works, he knows that. Both are a vital part of one's initiation, in acquisition as well as usage, but it's a part Magnus has been putting off for as long as humanly possible. While filled with magickal significance―just like everything else that has been prepared for the ritual―such items are most of all a reminder of the coven's dogma; the weak are to be preyed upon, and everything they are is for the strong to claim.

Lilith smiles.

"You're a resourceful boy," she says. She sounds like she means it, almost fond. "If the world does not provide, we take. I'm sure you'll think of something."

With one last look of poison-tinged affection, Lilith leaves and closes the door behind her, leaving Magnus alone in the large room.

He looks down at his lap, where his fists lay clenched against his knees. He has never had to maim before, not with his own hands. Has never had to kill anything larger than a rodent. Tonight might change that, one truth or both―he doesn't know yet. Just the thought of either makes bile rise in his throat, his head suddenly light and heavy at the same time. He can't quite seem to think, can't focus on anything concrete, let alone a plan of going about doing what he knows he needs to do.

But there is something. Always something, always there, more and more over the past several months. In the thick haze that surrounds him, only one thought breaks through, bright and shining and bold, stronger than any time Magnus has dared think it, before.

He has to get out. He will.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [the twitters](https://twitter.com/lemonoclefox)! You can use #SwayFic to talk about this series, if you feel so inclined.


End file.
